After the Curse is Gone
by KateToast
Summary: The night before everything will change, Emma must finally decide where she's going to end up.


_A/N: Mother/daughter times - Emma and Mary Margaret/Snow are just too sweet. No clue where the show is taking the curse story, or what would happen after, but this could always be something like it._

**XXX**

They were so close – so near the end. Most predicted it would be tomorrow. Afternoon, most likely, evening at the latest. The curse that had robbed the inhabitants of this town for three decades would finally be dissolved.

Emma was exhausted. The months – years, now – that she'd spent in Storybrooke, as outlaw, as sheriff, as mother, as friend, and recently, as daughter, had made her bone-weary, ready to curl up in a corner somewhere by herself for as long as she could stand it.

But they weren't quite there yet.

A hand touched Emma's shoulder, and she glanced behind her. Her roommate came around the couch and sat beside her. "What do you think you're going to do?" Mary Margaret – Snow White – her mother – asked.

Emma frowned, staring at the label she was peeling off a beer bottle in her hands. "I thought we'd had it pretty much figured out, at this point."

Snow put her wine glass down on the coffee table. Emma couldn't help but stare at the dark-haired woman, radiating confidence and self-assuredness even in the gentle moments. The lonely, unsure schoolteacher that had taken Emma in had disappeared with the reemergence of her true identity, transforming her into the fairy tale character Emma had read about in Henry's book.

The thing that really threw Emma was that she could see a bit of herself in Snow White; it seemed silly and childish and downright _weird_ to look for pieces of yourself in someone who you'd grown up thinking was fictional, and yet this not-real person was her _mother_, sitting right beside her, and her father was Prince Charming, and they'd put her into a magical wardrobe to save her from the curse, to save _them_ from the curse, and how was this all Emma's true life? What little girl spent her childhood hating dolls and princesses, only to learn at age 30 that she actually _was_ a princess?

"I don't mean about that – the curse," Snow clarified. She was twisting the ever-present ring on her finger – Emma only noticed now that at some point she'd moved it from her middle finger to her left ring finger. Henry's book had explained that the ring was given to James by his mother, the promise of true love following it. Emma hadn't believed in nonsense like 'true love' – until she'd seen the way her parents looked at each other, even when they'd just been Mary Margaret and David. "I mean after," Snow continued.

"After… the curse is gone," Emma said.

"Yes."

Emma frowned, putting the empty bottle beside Snow's wine glass. "I… uh… I don't know," she said. "To be honest, I haven't thought about it too much."

"Understandably," Snow agreed. She shifted, tucking her legs up on the couch and laying an arm along the back, her hand close to Emma's shoulder.

"It does seem like I'm going to have to make… a choice," Emma added. The exact details of what would happen after the curse disappeared were fuzzy, but Emma knew she'd have to pick: the world she'd grown up in, or the world she'd been born into. The townspeople were pretty united in the plan of returning to their castles, villages and forests, the lure of the gadgets and possibilities of this world not enough to sway them from their true origins.

Snow nodded, green eyes patient. Something in the gaze compelled Emma to look back, as vulnerable as she suddenly felt. "You either stay here… or come with us," her mother said.

Emma had lied, a moment before; she _had_ thought about this – a _lot_. It was the biggest decision of her life, even bigger than when she'd decided to give her baby up for adoption. How could she leave behind everything she had ever known – the world that made sense, that had cars and computers and women in pants, not carriages and magic and ball gowns? And yet – how could she let her newly discovered family go, after so much wishing and searching?

"It's a huge decision," Emma said.

"It is," Snow agreed, her hand brushing Emma's arm. "And I would say that you should really weigh your options and take your time deciding… but…"

"… I don't exactly have much time left," Emma finished with a crooked smile.

"Exactly." Snow took Emma's hand comfortingly. Emma had noticed many times the woman almost on the verge of doing or saying something motherly, but holding herself back at the last moment. Before, when she was Mary Margaret, Emma had hardly thought twice about the close relationship they had – but then everything had changed…

"I don't want you to feel pressured," Snow continued. "None of us do. The situation you're in… finding out all of these things about yourself, things that have never been real to you… it would make sense, if you wanted to stay put."

Emma chewed her lip. "It _is_ crazy. All of it," she agreed. "The idea of just picking up and leaving this world, _my_ world, after spending so much time here… it's terrifying." Snow's features tightened in sympathy, but Emma saw sadness there, too, and continued: "But the thought of you and James and everyone in this crazy town disappearing from me forever is terrifying, too."

Snow squeezed Emma's hand. "I don't want to do or say anything to make you feel guilty with your decision, but I have to tell you, Emma… I would be terribly, terribly sad to have to give you up again. It may be even worse than when you were a baby, because I _know_ you now, and I know just how incredible you are. And I know that you grew up in this world, and this is all you've ever known… and it kills me, because _your_ world should have always been the one you were born into. You should have grown up – with _us_…"

Moisture rushed to Emma's eyes, blurring the image of her mother, looking so open and regretful. "I know what I need to do," she said, blinking a few times. "I _know_ where I should be."

Snow sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek. Mother and daughter had not yet spoken with each other like this. "Your father and I will understand."

A chuckle escaped from Emma at Snow's shaking resolve, causing her mother to eye her in confusion. "I'm sorry, it's just… I spent my entire life looking for my parents. For _you_. You actually think I'm going to let you go now?"

Snow shook her head, disbelieving. "You mean – you want to come with us?"

Emma laughed again, emotions running high in her exhausted state. She couldn't _wait_ for this to all be over. "What's keeping me here? My car is on its last legs," she joked.

"Henry–"

"Henry and I discussed it already – he's going where I go. And he's mentioned, _repeatedly_, that he would not be against us living in a castle."

Snow was grinning, her eyes still wet, now from joy. "Emma," she said, in the way that felt like being home. "Are you sure about this? Are you absolutely—"

"Yes," Emma interrupted, also grinning. "I'm positive."

"It's going to be such a change, things are so different there… we don't have all of the technology this world has—"

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" Emma asked.

Snow gasped and waved her hands around. "No, no, no! Of course not! I just… can't believe it. You're coming home," she said, looking at Emma with such wonder.

"I guess I am," Emma agreed, smiling at the idea. She had no idea what to expect from the world of fairy tales, but she supposed if she had her parents, and her son, she could figure it out.

"I have to tell your father. Can I tell him?" Snow asked, already halfway off the couch and reaching for her purse. James and Henry had stayed behind with the War Council when Emma had excused herself, claiming a headache, Snow following behind her.

"Go ahead," Emma nodded, Snow's exuberance infectious. Now she knew why she'd always striven to please Mary Margaret – she hadn't wanted to let her mother down, even unconsciously.

Snow was already on her phone, her words so rushed Emma wondered if James could even understand her. She leaned her head back against the couch and let out a long, soft sigh. Now that _that_ was out of the way, she just had to obliterate an evil curse…

**XXX**


End file.
